Magpie
by Princess Badass
Summary: Batman had inspired many, obviously one had taken it too far when one by one, members of the Mob start popping up dead. His only lead being the strange girl that caught him on camera one time outside Maroni's house.


**Jinx: Yeah, Magpie the first didn't turn out so great for me. Here, I present Magpie II. There's nothing in common with the first one except the ending but I can't tell you guys that. There's a bit more madness in here as it's based on the second film, Joker involved and everything though timeline will be mixed up slightly. Well, whatever.**

**Disclaiming Batman.**

* * *

Philip Kingston liked to think he lived in luxury.

He was borderline, never quite short of money but not enough to splurge excessively all of the time. He paid his housekeepers more than he probably should with the shoddy jobs they did, he took care of his two daughters every weekend when his ex-wife brought them over and he did his fair share of charity work whether for appearances or genuine. His money stemmed from an undesirable means though, the blood money, the cold hard cash in his pockets filched for the Mob.

He did his best not to think of what his men did every day and night, just held his girls close to him and tried to hide from the nightmares and guilt on his shoulders. Bridget and Amelia never knowing what their daddy did when he went to those awful meetings in those run down hotels. They just smiled and gave him sweet kisses on his cheek, taking the hand of their favourite maid and skipping away to play with dolls and some other innocent children's toys. He liked to think he lived in luxury with two beautiful girls, and a third if his ex-wife would hear him out, a fair share of money and the only nagging coming from the guilt that he pocketed secretly.

"'Ey up Phil, you going round to Maisy's stonight?" His co-worker Sal asked him, Phil giving him a quirky sort of smile that one has to come to love.

"Mhm, hoping a bottle of wine will loosen her up a lil' bit."

"Good luck my man." Sal said, grinning widely and slapping his colleague on the back before going back to business. Phil waved him off as he checked his mobile, just to make sure it wasn't too late. He still had a good hour and a half before Maisy finished work. The girls would be in bed and he could pretend that they left something crucial like... like... like Amelia's stuffed bunny! Amy could never sleep without Mr. Hopalong. That'd have to do, never mind the bottle of red wine he had stored for this occasion.

He'd just have to make a quick stop home to grab the bottle and bunny before heading over.

Just had another hour and a half before he could leave. Another hour and half to tap his pencil, wait for his men to come back and say they've done their job, to check his emails and do otherwise meaningless tasks. Well, he was his own boss. He sighed and sat back in his chair, rolling over to the open door and hissing to get his secretary's attention.

"Psst. Pssst Becca! Becca!" He hissed under his breath, the woman sighed and turned to look over at her boss. She had the patience of a saint, which he would remember the next time he bought her a Christmas present. He grinned at her and watched as her lips twitched into a smile.

"Yes Phil?" She asked, exasperation oozing from her words but the fond smile told him that he was still her favourite. She was a tough nut since she previously worked for Falcone but after a certain incident she came and sought protection from Sal.

"I think I'm gonna skip out a good hour early." He whispered to her as if it was some big secret.

"And why are you telling me this? You're the boss." Becca told him, giving that infamous stare which could make him squirm in his seat. It wouldn't help his case if he told her he was going to see Maisy, heaven help them if those two got into another fight over him. Becca was old enough to be his mum but Maisy was jealous enough to make her greener than the Hulk.

"Cover for me! Sal wasn't happy last time I did it." He told her, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh jeez, I wonder why." She muttered under her breath as he rolled back over to his desk and grabbed his coat. If he was any braver of a man he would have gone out the window but since the window cleaner took an hour to get up to the thirty first floor then the elevator would have to do. Standing from his chair, he patted down his pockets to make his car keys and house keys were still there. Not magically vanished like they had a habit of doing.

He glanced round his office once more, just to make sure he hadn't left anything of importance before leaving and sending a wink Becca's way. The woman just flapping a hand at him, eager to get rid of the distraction no matter how much she laughed as he did an over exaggerated tip toe all the way to the elevator. He waved at her cheerily though as the doors opened, stepping in and nodding towards three other men before pressing the button for the ground floor. It was awkward for that short elevator ride, the quiet hum of the music and the four stops before they hit the ground floor. That was when Philip practically skipped out of the small elevator and out of the building- sending a small wave to Billy, the beggar kid who he usually gave a couple of dollars to whenever he saw him.

He whistled to himself as he strolled across the road towards the car park, watching the lights of his snazzy Mercedes flash as he unlocked it. Dancing over to his car, he climbed into the driver seat and started the car. Just ready to go home. The traffic wasn't that bad and the lights were lit of that amazing emerald green which told him to go home as quick as he could. And he did, breaking the speed limit by a good ten mph.

He couldn't say Hello to his house fast enough, so he pulled into the driveway and turned the car off. Scrambling out of the car and making his way to the side door that led straight into the kitchen. Otherwise known as where the wine was kept, then he'd probably have a rummage for Amy's rabbit.

He put his keys down on the counter and slid across the slick tiles in his expensive leather shoes. Staring down the shelves he tried to remember where the hell he'd stashed that wine. He had to stash it see, his maids weren't very good and had a tendency of running off with his best alcohols. Not that he minded, the Russian duet of best friends were like honorary family in his household.

The faint scratching sound caught his attention though.

"...Hello?" Philip called out to his empty home, hearing nothing for a good minute he shrugged his shoulder and went about finding that red wine once again. The noise repeated though, sounding more and more like shuffling but big than the mice he had thought it was. "Anya? That you?"

When his maid didn't respond and the light flickered on in his study, he began to worry. Setting his phone down on the counter he walked past the wine rack where his red wine stuck out obviously, eyes narrowed on the blinking light. He grabbed his rolling pin from the cupboard as he passed- not really thinking about what he was doing as he took measured steps towards his study. The door from the kitchen to the hallway not making a noise as he opened it, his feet silent on the floor.

"-Much time, yes of course I have the list. I'm starting toni- don't take that tone with _me!_ I understand we have a deadline but- yes,"

Philips brow furrowed as he got closer and closer to the door because that definitely wasn't Anya speaking. He wished he'd brought a small torch because he hadn't turned on the hallway lighting and, yeah instead of being stealthy he tripped over something. You'd think he knew his house by now. He grunted in pain as he landed square on his face and looking back over his shoulder at what he tripped over he wasn't afraid to admit that he screamed.

Anya laid there on her front, a small river of blood pouring from her open mouth and her eyes gouged from their sockets. The bile rose in his throat and before he could stop it he scrambled over to the plant pot near his study's door and threw up his last meal. He simply stayed hunched over though, staring at the puke and dirt whilst he shook like there was no tomorrow. There was a smear of blood where his feet had carelessly kicked the corpse in the mad scramble for the plant pot and he could safely say the smell of bile wasn't what was making his eyes tear up.

He didn't notice that the voice had stopped speaking, that the study door was creaking open and light flooded the hallway. He just winced and when he glanced up, he had to knock himself back down as he caught a glimpse of the mangled corpse laid on his floor. The light just made it all the real for him.

"My, my, Mr. Kingston. Made quite a mess haven't we?" The feminine voice asked him mockingly, her voice sullen and gritty like the backwaters of Maisy's old home town. He heard the decisive click of her heels as she came to stand my him, he dared to glance up and catch a glimpse of the woman before she ended him like she did his maid. Her pretty lips upturned into a snarl as she raised the weapon above her petite body

"Don't worry, I'm sure your friends will clean it up."

* * *

"Awful what happened, ain't it?"

Lillith glanced over her newspaper at the old woman nosing at what she was reading, nodding her head and twisting her lips in what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. The woman smiled back and returned her attention to the mug of coffee that she was nursing in her bird like hands. As soon as her back was turned Lillith rolled her eyes and returned to reading whatever she had been reading, her own mug having long been emptied and never having been offered a refill from the waitress to busy flirting with the officers sat across from her.

She wasn't complaining though, she finally got some uninterrupted reading time and just a moments quiet. No little brothers rattling on and on about some girl he was dating, no mother pestering her about finding a man and settling down- just she and the newspaper. Having some decent quality time. With a mug of coffee. Little things but to Lillith it was pure heaven.

It was of no consequence to her that Philip Kingston was dead, in fact she welcomed it with a smile as bitter as the lemons squeezed within the diners kitchen. She just flipped the page and eyed the headline; **Salvatore Maroni on Trial**. With Harvey Dent as prosecutor there was bound to be a show. It was of no consequence to her who Harvey Dent was nor the impact he was having on the justice system within the corrupt walls of Gotham but there were obvious limits of the influence from this supposed White Knight.

She just flipped the page and ignored the smug smirk of the mob boss, remembering when it had once been Falcone that had been in his place. Now with two Mob generals gone, Falcone locked up with the nutters in Arkham and Kingston buried, body beside head. The mob underworld was no doubt in tatters that Maroni was only happy to pick up.

"You seemed troubled." Lillith glanced up and smiled at Rachel, moving her bag and letting her friend park her ass next to her in the booth.

"Says the woman almost single-handedly battling crime in Gotham." Lillith muttered behind the newspaper, her lips flirting into an amused smile as Rachel leaned forward to peer into her mug. The woman obviously deflated when realizing she couldn't steal any coffee from an empty mug.

"That's not trouble, just a lot of cleaning." Rachel said, shrugging her bony shoulders casually as she waved the waitress over.

"Didn't know you were a maid." Lillith said dryly as she ordered another coffee for Rachel and herself when the waitress came back over.

"My prices are extortionate, I doubt you could afford it." Rachel told her, flipping her pretty brown curls over her shoulder with a snobby expression that didn't suit her face. Lillith sniggered at that and finally conceded defeat in their little quiet battle- laying her newspaper flat on the table and turning to face her friend.

"Okay, what do you want?"

"Why would I want anything other than your company, Lily-bear?"

"Because you could have _Harvey Dent's_ instead of mine," Lillith crooned, grinning as her friend blushed a pink that put her shirt to shame "so I'll ask again. What d'ya want?"

"... ugh, okay! I need some help picking out a dress for this fund-raiser going on in about a month and I have nothing to wear."

"Why are you preparing a month early?"

"Why aren''t you?"

"I'm invited?"

"No but I was trying to be witty."

"Trying being the keyword."

"Is that a yes?"

"That you're very trying? Yes, Rachel you are." Lillith stated blandly, picking up her newspaper and pretended to read it once again. It was immediately crumpled as Rachel tore it slightly, her pleading eyes already breaking her down. Stupid friendships, stupid weakness' to Rachel's pouty look.

"Lily, please!"

"Fine, _fine_, I'll come over on Wednesday." Lily sighed, wincing as Rachel reached over and ruffled her once immaculate hair. It was still nice and soft though since she dyed it the other night, a pretty plum that Rachel had made jokes about all night long. Sometimes it was nice to have a girlfriend that you could call to complain about hair colours- other times, not so much.

Lillith didn't watch as Rachel slid herself out of the booth, downing the last of her coffee that she'd somehow drank before tearing out of the diner and no doubt back into the arms of the wonderful White Knight. Absent-mindedly Lillith wondered what Batman thought of this supposed antithesis of him. Fighting for the same cause, yes, but Harvey Dent was drenched in glory, in fame, in the light of day whilst Batman was nothing but a whisper, a warning in the shadows, a mystery to all those who were against him.

With a sigh, she threw a twenty dollar bill onto the table and got up herself. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she lid past the table full of cops, a lewd comment making her eyes roll sky high once again. She waved at the waitress as she walked out, and stood there on the pavement. Her hand digging deep into the depths of her jacket pockets and pulling out the surveillance photographs of Mr. Kingston before alighting them with a newly bought lighter. She watched the images smoulder slightly before dropping them into a nearby bin and walking away. Like nothing had ever happened.

Shrugging her bag further over her shoulder, she crossed the busy street with little mind to the honking horns as she made it to the other side and slipped down the alleyway quietly. Her footsteps nimble on the cobbled floor, jumping over homeless men's legs and avoiding their wanting hands that reached for her obviously placed wallet. Whatever she dropped, she dropped on purpose so when that twenty dollar bill slipped from her jacket pocket in front of the homeless kid. It was completely by accident.

Like when she accidentally came to stand in front of Salvatore Maroni's house.

Accidents happen all of the time.

And with that thought, she reached back into her bag and pulled out the professional looking camera, turning of the flash and beginning to snap some pictures of the building as she scaled the fire escape of the building across the road. A little side project with a deadline coming up. As she reached the roof, she crouched on the edges with her camera in hand and simply stared at the building.

...What colour dress should she make Rachel wear? A nice purple/plum one would shut her up but the teal-ish green one that her father had bought her long ago would look nice if she did something with her hair, and maybe some make up. She could definitely have some fun with dolling up Miss Dawes. Lifting the camera, she gazed at the building and snapped another picture of the mistress that strolled around the house on a Saturday lunch time in her underwear. She couldn't stay too long without being spotted.

Another picture taken and she was nothing but thin air on a crumbling building, already leaping down the fire escape once again and retracing her steps through the alleyway. She nodded at the kid, dodged the homeless mens legs and when she reahced the Diner- took a sharp left to the abandoned block of flats on the corner of Seventh street. It had been shut down and reopened but nobody wanted to stay there; so she just took her pickings and stole the flat second to the bottom. It was a small flat, two bedroom with enough space for her to have a little glamour in her life- glamour which turned into a boxing bag and a drawer to stash her tape.

As she walked in through the door, her phone beep to tell her she had voicemails. Pressing the button, she walked into the kitchen as she listened in-

"_You Have Three New Messages; Message 1- _You know some people would think you're ignoring me, but I'm here to say that I'm not one of those people. I'm really sorry for last Friday and I wanna make it up to you. Milkshakes, Wednesday? On me. Just... call back, alright babe?"

Lillith snorted huffily under her breath as she poured herself a glass of water.

"_Message 2_; Hey Lily, it's me Sarah. of course you know it's me, I... I just wanted to call. Mum's at work and Daddy's asleep on the couch but last night got really bad and I don't know what to do. Would you be able to come pick me up after High School this Friday? Just so I can stay over at yours for the weekend, just the weekend promise! Call me later tonight."

The water tasted suddenly bitter in her mouth and found it hard to swallow, almost drowning in the gulp she had taken.

"_Message 3; _It's me... we need to talk."

Lillith slammed the glass down at the last one, ignoring her machine until it went silent. Her glare didn't faze the window she looked out of though, just reflected her angry expression back at her whilst showing the poverty struck Narrows. They needed to talk, always needed to talk but she'd just ignore his message as per usual. He'd turn up in her living room soon enough.

He had a habit of that.

* * *

**Jinx: There's a lot of ambiguity here and I like that for once, so I'm kind of pleased with this one. Hope you enjoyed, yadda yadda yadda. **


End file.
